


The Gas

by Silver_Nebulae



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Nebulae/pseuds/Silver_Nebulae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who will crack first? The case, or Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more chapters to come~!

“Sherlock, for the last time, stop putting heads in the fridge!” John Watson growled, his blue eyes snapping to look at the other with a dangerous glare. “The fridge is for food; not for human heads!” 

“Where else am I meant to put it?” Sherlock didn’t so much as turn from his chair, his hands furiously typing. The speed at which the detective could type was incredible; almost inhuman. Then again, so was the man himself. 

“I don’t care, Sherlock.” John shut the fridge door and stood up straight, turning to make tea instead. “Just not in the fridge. And preferably not in the house either.” He gave a slight hiss, more at himself considering the man couldn’t let himself grow to angry at the other. It wasn’t like Sherlock was going to listen anyway. 

The sociopath shut the laptop and practically jumped out of his seat, “But I need them for experiments, besides, nobody else will let me keep them in their fridge.”, he leaped over the back of his arm chair, squatting down as his gaze locked onto the TV. Waterloo Road: A drama show based around an extremely troubled high school. It was too over exaggerated for Sherlock’s liking, but John seemed to tolerate it.

“I’m not surprised.” John murmured, taking a sip of the hot tea after he had finished it; the warm liquid ran down his neck, scolding his tongue in the process. 

Sherlock yawned, sliding down into a sitting position as he watched the television with little to no interest at all. 

A couple more painfully slow hours of Sherlock yelling at the TV and John yelling at Sherlock later, the familiar ring of the detectives phone sounded through the flat. For a split second, it seemed as though time itself stood still. “Case!” Sherlock cried out, jumping over the arm of the chair, tripping in the process and falling on his face. “Urgh..” He groaned and dragged himself up, running to his coat pocket. This was enough amusement for John, who was laughing at the others failed attempt to clear the chair. 

Something involving hydrogen cyanide and multiple deaths, fancy helping us out here? -GL

You’re on thin ice though, remember? Don’t mess this one up. -GL

 

Sherlock grinned. “Perfect.”


	2. 2

“Anything?” Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade ceased his pacing and stood beside Sherlock, looking at John, then letting his gaze fall to the body. They were at the morgue: lethal gas had been detected at the scene of the crime so professionals had to take it upon themselves to remove the body and seal the area. 

“He’d clearly been exposed to the gas for a long time. The clothes were worn, he had no chance to change them. His hair was greasy, he couldn’t wash it. A stubble around his chin, he’d not shaven for a month at the most.” Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, “Blisters on his feet; he’d been up and walking a lot. Nail’s blunt and small fragments of wood in them, he tried to escape the ware house, but the wood of the door wouldn’t cave in.”, he paused. “He’d been kept hostage in the ware house for 13 days, exposed to Tungsten hexafluoride the whole time, his captors probably wanted some sort of ransom for his safe return, but he would have died regardless. There was seemingly more than one captor. The victim is muscular and it would have taken more than one person to restrain him.” And that was all he had.

“Freak.” Anderson snorted from the other side of the room, his expression that of boredom. The man was leaned on the wall.

“Shut up Anderson.” The detective scoffed back at the unpopular man. “You and Donovan met up last night, I presume. Don’t know what she see’s in you.”

The older man’s cheeks flushed pink, “I’m going.”, he gave a low growl before turning around and out of the door.

“He’s a but short tempered today…” John murmured, watching the embarrassed man hastily flee the room.

“Bad night.” Sherlock smirked, “Clearly Donovan walked out on him; not a surprise either.”, he turned back to Lestrade. “Enough?”

“Yeah, thanks Sherlock.” The D.I patted the detectives arm after jotting a few things on his notepad. “Any idea who the killers are?”

The dark haired man rocked back on his heels, holding is chin in his hands as his silver blue eyes glazed over in thought. “Not one bit.” He murmured, though he wasn’t going to leave it at that. “Anyway, best be off.” The tall man practically skipped out of the room, his coat flailing as he moved.

“He’ll be up all night you know.” John sighed.

“Hm?” Greg blinked up at the other.

“Whenever he doesn’t know, he’ll stay awake until he figures it out. No doubt I’m going to suffer from it as well.” He murmured in response to the other.

“Suffer?” Lestrade chuckled, he had no idea why the ex army doctor even bothered to put up with the consulting detective. He himself could barely stand the man, despite the genius he was.

“Mhm…”


End file.
